


Shiro the hero

by Emls479



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little bit of Shallura, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Gladiators, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Self-Hatred, Slaves, Trophy, prisoner, season 4, shiro is not as okay as he pretends, the voltron show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:49:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emls479/pseuds/Emls479
Summary: What was wrong with him? It had been a simple performance! The crowd had loved him, cheered for him. So why did he feel like clawing his itching skin off?The stadium forced itself to the front of his mind. Brightly lit, full of noise and excitement.Not the first arena he had been popular in. His head gave a vicious pound. Hot tears leaked from his closed eyes, intermingling with the cold streams from the shower. The sobs were coming freely now. He was finally alone now. He didn't have to pretend to be fine anymore. He didn't have to act like he was okay with being displayed like a trophy. Like a toy. Like a slave.





	Shiro the hero

The paladins marched out of the arena to thunderous applause. Shiro could hear each of their names being screamed by a thousand alien throats. The bright lights of the stadium flashed behind them, illuminating their every movement as they exited. 

"Great show guys!" Coran greeted, throwing an arm around Shiro's shoulders. "They're loving us! A few more performances like this and Zarkon won't have a single loyal citizen left in the empire."

"That's great to hear Coran," Shiro praised, a smile frozen on his face. 

"Is it time for autographs?" Lance asked hopefully.

"Yes. Get out there everyone! This crowd is going to eat you up!" Coran sang, eyes wide and crazed with enthusiasm. 

Shiro lagged behind the group as they headed off. He needed to be out there with them. They were making incredible progress with Coran's new direction. The coalition was more important than his needs. Another roar of noise rang out behind them, amplified in the narrow hall. He couldn't suppress a wince, shivers racing over his itching skin. 

"Are you alright?"

He blinked. 

It was Allura. She was trailing beside him, looking curiously at his tense posture. 

"Yeah. Just a little tired," Shiro reassured her, forcing himself to drop his tight shoulders. 

"Are you sure? You look rather pale. Or is that normal? Human shade changes are still somewhat unknown to me."

Hunk glanced back, overhearing their conversation. 

"What? Are you feeling sick Shiro? Why didn't you say something earlier?"

He opened his mouth to argue his wellness. But the throbbing pain in his head flared up at that moment, causing him to inhale sharply. A horrible wave of nausea accompanied it. He grimaced, massaging his temples firmly. 

"You really do look unwell," Allura insisted. "Perhaps we should head back to the castle instead."

"The fans are waiting for their paladin autographs! We can't take away the main attraction!" Coran broke in. 

Another wave of pain washed over Shiro at his words. Sweat beaded across his forehead. 

"It's fine. Just a little headache." He clenched his fists. They couldn't see how badly his hands were shaking. 

"No way, you look like you're going to pass out man," Lance pointed out. Shiro shook his head insistently. This was too important! He couldn't back out. 

"This is Shiro the hero! He can do anything!" Coran burst out. "Come on! The crowd's waiting."

Allura rounded on her advisor. They all leaned back at the fierce glint in her eyes. 

"Shiro is not well Coran. Interacting with hundreds of fans will surely not help that. He must get back to the castle and rest."

There was no arguing with the finality of her tone. Shiro let out a breath of relief, hating himself even as he did. What was wrong with him?

"Sorry team. You all go ahead," he urged. "I'm sure I'll feel better after a quick nap."

.................................................................................................

Shiro stepped into the dark shower, eyes tight shut. Shivers tore across his scarred skin. His breath came in ragged gasps, bursting out of his lungs. He clenched his trembling fists even tighter, leaning against the wall. The crowd's screams seemed to echo out of every dark corner. 

A choked sob tore itself out of his throat. 

What was wrong with him? It had been a simple performance! The crowd had loved him, cheered for him. So why did he feel like clawing his itching skin off? 

The stadium forced itself to the front of his mind. Brightly lit, full of noise and excitement. 

Not the first arena he had been popular in. His head gave a vicious pound. Hot tears leaked from his closed eyes, intermingling with the cold streams from the shower. The sobs were coming freely now. He was finally alone now. He didn't have to pretend to be fine anymore. He didn't have to act like he was okay with being displayed like a trophy. Like a toy. Like a slave. 

Shiro slid down the shower, drawing into himself. 

The applause of the coalition members, the screams of his victims in the gladiator ring, the roars of approval from the Galra... they all rushed together in a hellish cacophony. It wasn't supposed to be like this! It was supposed to be over. 

Shiro choked on another sob. He could feel his fingernails digging into his arm, drawing blood. But he couldn't let go. Heavy, miserable thoughts were swarming around him in the cold darkness. He wasn't supposed to be performing anymore. He was supposed to feel safe. No more prisons, no more experiments, no more killing. 

So why did he still feel trapped? 

He ducked his head into his knees and let himself fall apart. 

.........................................................................................

"Hello? Is someone in here?"

Shiro didn't raise his head. He bit back a whimper and tried to hold his breath. If he was quiet enough maybe she wouldn't see him like this. No one was supposed to see him like this. 

"Shiro?"

A distraught breath exploded out before he could stop it.

Soft footsteps entered the room. A light shot through the room, scorching his burning eyes. He ducked inward, pulling the soaking towel even tighter around himself. Soft apologetic sounds filled the room. The lights dimmed again. 

"Is everything- Oh... Oh Shiro," Allura's voice was soft and gentle, as if she was speaking to a frightened animal.

He couldn't look at her. 

He heard her come nearer and settle down next to him. He cringed away from her. Her voice kept up a steady, soft tone as she tried to soothe him. 

"Okay, no touching. That's fine. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You can take all the time you need. I can stay as long as you want me to."

Shiro tried to wipe at his face. It was tender and sensitive, soaked in water, sweat and tears.

"Would you like anything? Perhaps some food or medicine? You may be sicker than we thought previously. I could ask Hunk to make you something?"

"NO!" Shiro gasped. A fresh wave of shivering broke over him. 

Allura's hand hovered uncertainly over his shoulder. 

"Why not Shiro? You don't seem well. I know that we can help you." The worry in her voice pierced Shiro's frantic heart. 

"I know that the team wants you to be well. Are you sure you don't want-"

"I d-don't want them to.... to know," Shiro managed. 

Allura's fingertips brushed his shoulder gently. 

"Very well."

Her hand was warm. It seemed to radiate waves of heat throughout his freezing body. Before he could stop himself, he had leaned into the touch, craving the comfort and warmth. Allura didn't hesitate. She gathered him into a secure hug. Her hair fell around him in a soft curtain. 

"Shhhhh-shhhh. It's okay. You're safe. You're okay."

And for a moment Shiro forgot about his fear. He forgot about the screams of arenas. He forgot about the crushing weight of his trauma. 

And he let himself be comforted .


End file.
